her seat with a small sigh.
"Surely you are not going to go through with this?" Emilie said.
"I thought this was a joke. You cannot mean to really do it."
"Nay, of course not," Murie assured her friend. "I will tell Lauda so as soon as she comes back."
"Oh, good." Emilie shook her head. "While I mean no offense to St. Agnes, it does seem a silly superstition - and eating rotten meat could be dangerous."
Murie nodded and turned her attention back to the food on her trencher, then merely pushed it around with disinterest as she found herself repeatedly glancing toward the doors as she waited for Lauda's return. And waited. And waited.
The meal was over and everyone was beginning to rise from the tables when the woman finally reappeared. Murie prepared to explain politely but firmly that she'd no intention of participating in the exercise, but Lauda didn't give her the chance.
"Oh, I am so sorry I took so long. The king's cook took forever to even trouble himself to talk to me. He then took his time about finding something suitable, and insisted I stand there and wait while he prepared it. But I have it, finally," she added with a small laugh, and held up two bits of meat on a small pewter plate. Murie eyed the bits of meat with distaste and started to shake her head. The moment she did, alarm claimed Lauda's expression.
"You are not going to refuse after all the time and trouble I took to get this, are you?"
Guilt making her grimace, Murie said, "I am sorry, Lauda, but I never meant - "
"You do not have the courage," Lauda said on a disappointed sigh. "I should have realized. You never did have any backbone. And being famous as a spoiled, wailing brat can't be for nothing." Murie stood up abruptly, her mouth open to reciprocate, but then she spotted the avid faces of those around her, and she closed it again. She'd tried to stand up for herself on first arriving at court. She'd been a sad, lonely child, newly orphaned and lost, in need of friends and sympathy and affection. Instead, she'd found herself the target of the other girls who'd spotted her pain, seen it as weakness and circled like wolves for the kill. Murie had tried to fight back, but it had left her in constant conflict. One girl would attack her and, whenever she tried to defend herself,the rest would jump in. Six months later, beleaguered and miserable, she'd simply wished she'd died along with her parents. If Emilie had not arrived at court then and befriended her, Murie wasn't at all sure how things would have ended. Fortunately, Emilie had; had seen what was happening and given her advice. It hadn't perhaps been the best advice in the world, considering her reputation, but Murie felt sure it had saved her sanity. All she'd had to do was break into noisy sobs, and the girls usually backed off and left her alone, eventually not even bothering to attack her anymore.
An added benefit was that the queen had found her weeping and wailing so tiresome that she'd stopped insisting Murie remain close by, allowing her to slip away on her own and read or practice some of the various hobbies she'd acquired over the years.
The Brat. Murie's pride wouldn't stand for the label anymore. She wished to marry and wanted a husband who would respect her. Despite Emilie's assurances,she knew the label would damage her chances.She wanted it forgotten.
Expression grim, she held out her hand. "Give it to me." Lauda handed over one of the pieces of meat,and Murie immediately popped it into her mouth. She grimaced at the vile taste. One of the herbs or spices the cook had used to hide the rot was bitter and nasty.It was so bad she nearly spat the meat back out, but determination made her chew and swallow. Pausing, she glanced at the other piece and arched an eyebrow. "Well?" Lauda smiled and ate it.
"There we are then," Malculinus said. Lauda's brother was grinning widely, but then, he wasn't the one who'd had to eat the horrendous meat. "I can hardly wait until morning to learn what happened. May I say I hope you both have sweet dreams?" Murie made no reply; she simply turned and left the hall.
"Are you all right?" Emilie asked as they made their way toward their rooms. 'You keep rubbing your stomach. That meat hasn't